


the bugs and the dirt

by Marenke



Series: the quaren-fics [85]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, heather m heather c and jd are all there. in the background, work title: sole survivor au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marenke/pseuds/Marenke
Summary: After Heather is killed by them, it’s so easy to turn the mug on J.D. that it’s almost funny.
Series: the quaren-fics [85]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896019
Kudos: 14
Collections: Ladies Bingo 2020, Whumptober 2020





	the bugs and the dirt

**Author's Note:**

> day five, prompt: where do you think you're going?  
> also a ladiesbingo fill, prompt 08.07: terrible choices!

After Heather is killed by them, it’s so easy to turn the mug on J.D. that it’s almost funny. He doesn’t think about it when she offers him the non-spoiled mug with milk and orange juice and maybe just enough drain cleaner that it wouldn’t be smellable, but certainly potent, forces him to drink it up until he’s blue when he is weak.

J.D. falls, and Veronica watches with impassive eyes, grabs the suicide note she faked, writes a new one, concocting a story with only a few phrases in Heather’s calligraphy.

Everyone _loves_ Romeo and Juliet.

* * *

When the news of the _tragic_ double suicide comes, Veronica can manage to squeeze a few tears out of her eyes, pretends to be sad. She’s aware this is out of character for her, but she can still see Heather choking, sees J.D. falling and looking at her like she backstabed him. Well, she had.

She comforts McNamara when she cries, pats her back and gets her ice cream to eat, stands side by side with Duke at the solemn funeral of Heather Chandler. Duke watches, mute, the proceedings, as if she were the priest overseeing everything.

There will be no funeral for the boy called Jason Dean: his father takes him to rest with his mother, and it’s _fine_. Veronica does not choke on tears she has no right to spill.

* * *

It’s a silent few days. The secret behind their deaths eats away at Veronica’s heart every time she hears _Heather,_ which, considering her two friends, isn’t that hard. 

Then, at some point in time, somewhere between the commotion and Duke rising as the new queen bitch of Westburg. Time slogs by and is hard to keep track of, with summer being a distant, frail concept. She corners Veronica in-between classes, drags her to a bathroom, locks the door.

Veronica makes a motion to unlock the door, get away from… Whatever this is. Interrogation, therapy, perhaps?

“Where do you _think_ you’re going?” Duke hisses, slapping Veronica’s hand away from the door. The red scrunchie shines brightly on Duke’s thin wrist, and Veronica’s eyes tear away from it as if it was unholy. “Veronica.”

“I have class?” She tries, and Duke scoffs. 

“Right, because you’ve been paying attention to those.” Duke snorts, crossing her arms, the red scrunchie thankfully out of view. “What’s going on? You’ve been… Weird.”

“Stress?” Veronica suggests, and Duke rolls her eyes. “I mean, two people died.”

“It’s about the boy, then.” Not a question. Veronica bites her lower lip. 

“He had a name.” Duke waves off that particular concern. “Hey, you might’ve not liked him, but Heather -”

“Right. That double suicide shit.” Duke snorts, amused at some level. Veronica looks quizzically at her. Then, a shadow passes over Duke’s face. “Oh, yeah, they didn’t tell you. Heather was dating Heather.”

Veronica freezes, because what else is she supposed to do? This wasn’t something she’d foreseen, wasn’t something that anyone had. Duke analyzed her as if she was a pinned butterfly, and Veronica felt like one.

“So when I heard Heather had committed suicide with that boy you were so fond of, I became suspicious. And mrs. Fleming was so charitable in passing around Heather’s note.” Duke leans in, and Veronica was sure this was how she died: afraid in a high school bathroom, with Duke’s hands on her throat. “You’re not a good imitator when you really pay attention to it, Veronica. So, tell me: what the fuck happened?”

“J.D. put drain cleaner on Heather’s drink.” She blurts out, and Duke gives a step back. Tears rose to her eyes, and this time, it wasn’t forced. “I didn’t know! He just changed the mugs while I wasn’t looking, then told me to write, so I, I…”

“You killed him and faked a double suicide.” Duke finishes, and puts one hand to her mouth, eyes clearly doing all the math. Veronica sat in the sinks, wringing her hands. “Fuck me with a chainsaw.”

Veronica laughs, near hysterics, hands through her hair as if to pull it out, and Duke held her wrist, stopping her.

“Okay, yeah. This secret dies with us, then.”

“You’re not going to rat me out?” 

“Do I _look_ like a snitch?” Silence. Duke frowns. “Nevermind. Listen, Veronica. Methods aside, etc, you got rid of a problem. Jason Dean did not seem like a good person.”

“Heather _died_.”

Duke pauses at this, then shrugged.

“Let’s consider this a pyrrhic victory, then.” Duke bit her lower lip. “We can’t have everything.”

"What about Heather? If what you told me is true, then..."

Duke sits by Veronica's side, feet dangling in the air. Childish, almost nonsensical. Veronica feels as if she's losing her mind.

"She has bounced back from worse." It sounds almost trivial: as if McNamara would go back to being her puppy self at any moment now. Veronica can't help but hope it's what happens.

* * *

McNamara does not bounce back. 

* * *

Veronica stands by Duke's side during the little funeral, surrounded by a cascade of yellow flowers. Duke stares ahead, blank, and all Veronica can do is hold her hand, afraid that, if she lets go, Duke will float away.

From three Heathers to one: the sole survivor stands alone amongst a sea of bones, uncertain of what to do, alone for the first time in her life.

No, not alone. Veronica's fingers intertwine with Duke's, warm and solemn. Veronica has made enough damage for now, and she won't let Duke be hurt anymore.


End file.
